Corpus Christi murder case in 1922 linked to KKK

David Peel’s funeral home at Taylor and Lower Broadway (where the Caller-Times is today) was a meeting place of the Ku ...more

David Peel’s funeral home at Taylor and Lower Broadway (where the Caller-Times is today) was a meeting place of the Ku Klux Klan. After Klan leader Fred Roberts was slain, his body was taken to Peel’s to lie in state.

Fred Roberts, a real-estate dealer and farmer, was shot to death in front of a grocery store on Railroad Avenue at Staples Street on Oct. 14, 1922. The crime was tied to the growing power of the Ku Klux Klan in Nueces County and the forces arrayed against it.

In the 1920s the KKK was a growing movement not only in the South but around the country. Many joined the Klan as an agent of political reform, overlooking the invisible empire’s violent opposition to blacks, Catholics and Jews.

In Nueces County and Corpus Christi, the Klan was opposed by the political machine of former County Judge Walter Timon and many other prominent Catholics.

The Klan held initiation meetings and burned crosses in a pasture near Savage Lane and a vacant lot at Doddridge and Ocean Drive. Meetings were also held at David Peel’s funeral home at Taylor and Lower Broadway, where the Caller-Times is today. Peel was known as an active supporter of the Klan.

In a story for the Caller-Times Centennial edition in 1983, C.W. Carpenter wrote about the march of hundreds of Klan members in their white sheets in Sinton. David Grossman, who owned a store in Sinton, said, “I knew every one of those Klansmen. I sold them shoes and I could look at their feet and tell who was who.”

Keith Guthrie (“History of San Patricio”) wrote that the Klan held a big meeting at Sodwille and while it was underway opponents of the Klan spread roofing nails over the roads and under car tires. “There were lots of flat tires and swearing that night.”

The Klan planned a march in Corpus Christi but when robed members arrived at the Tex-Mex Depot they were met by Police Chief Monroe Fox. He ordered them not to get off the train. Expecting trouble, Fox had men stationed on the roof of City Hall and State National Bank armed with submachine guns.

The City Council passed an ordinance prohibiting parades by two or more masked persons, obviously aimed at the Klan. Armed volunteers patrolled, night and day, around Incarnate Word and the bishop’s residence on the bluff in fear of Klan violence. Across the region, crosses were burned, threats made, guns were carried as a matter of course, and violence was more than an abstract possibility.

It was against this highly charged atmosphere that the events of Oct. 14, 1922, a Saturday, unfolded.

Sheriff Frank Robinson and deputy Joe Acebo stopped at G.E. Warren’s grocery store to buy tobacco. Warren was thought to be a Klan member. Sheriff Robinson barely won election that year against W.F. “Wildfire” Johnston, the Klan-backed candidate. Robinson was an ally of the Timon clique and hated the Klan.

The sheriff bought tobacco and asked Warren how business was going. Warren said it was slow. “That’s how it is with you Kluxers,” said the sheriff. Acebo piped in, “Warren is a Kluxer; everybody says so.” The sheriff said, “You’re a Kluxer, aren’t you, Warren? By God, you know you are.”

The sheriff slapped the storekeeper, who shouted, “Don’t hit me. Get out of here.” Robinson and Acebo strolled across Staples Street to Blake’s Drug Store, where they stood leisurely watching Warren’s store.

The storekeeper’s wife, Dove Warren, called Police Chief Monroe Fox. He showed up with constable Lee Petzel and another man, Cleve Goff. Fox found Sheriff Robinson and Acebo talking across the street. Fox told the Warrens the sheriff was minding his business and he could do nothing unless the Warrens signed a complaint. The police chief returned to his office while Petzel and Goff stayed behind.

Warren called his friend Fred Roberts, a known Klan leader, who came to the store, talked to the Warrens, then went out to his car. He started the engine and Sheriff Robinson walked over, reached in, and turned off the ignition.

As witnesses related, the sheriff fired three shots at Roberts from his .45 caliber Colt revolver while Acebo, from the passenger side of the car fired one shot. Petzel in turn fired a volley of shots at the Warren grocery and Goff was somehow involved. Roberts was killed instantly, shot dead in the front seat of his car. His body was taken to David Peel’s funeral home to lie in state.

Feelings were strong on both sides. The paper ran an unusual front-page editorial urging people to stay calm and to let the judicial system run its course. Mayor P.G. Lovenskiold and County Judge Hugh Sutherland asked Gov. Pat Neff to send Texas Rangers to prevent further violence.

Ranger Capt. Frank Hamer arrived with four men. There is some dispute about whether “the murderers” and some 30 or 40 armed henchmen barricaded themselves in the courtroom and whether Hamer kicked in the doors of the courthouse when he arrived, declaring, “I’m Frank Hamer, Texas Ranger. I have warrants for the arrest of those involved in the murder of Fred Roberts. The rest of you put up those guns and get the hell out of here.” This colorful version in Hamer’s biography is not supported by local accounts.

Sheriff Robinson, Acebo, Petzel and Goff were indicted for murder. The trial was moved to Laredo on a change of venue. Eyebrows must have been raised over the fact that the presiding judge was Walter Timon, the former county judge who had been appointed district judge by the governor. Timon was a political ally of Robinson and both men were viscerally anti-Klan.

The former sheriff (he resigned after the shooting) testified that he shot Fred Roberts because he thought he was going for a gun, though no weapon was found in the car. The jury brought back its verdict on Jan. 13, 1923. All four defendants were found not guilty.

Former Sheriff Frank Robinson, fearing Klan retaliation, left the country and lived in Mexico for a decade. In Corpus Christi, a new hospital was named in honor of Fred Roberts. The Ku Klux Klan became increasing negligible as a political force in Nueces County and the general area. Its power began to ebb after the slaying of Fred Roberts and mostly had disappeared by the 1930s.

Caller-Times columnist Murphy Givens, June 2014.

Caller-Times columnist Murphy Givens, June 2014.

Contributed photo

Murphy Givens is the retired Viewpoints Editor of the Caller-Times. Email him at givens.murphy@gmail.com.